Concerta: a drug of choice at Rhodes

So while my coffee cools down I thought I might take a moment to disseminate some worthwhile word vomit in the form of a blog. Readers have been warned.

The debate of popping pills to improve performance always comes up during exam time. Matric finals and university exams are currently being written around South Africa. It's a tentative time - I don't want to use stressful because I might just offend someone who's reading this and they could possibly explode due to the amount of stress that is building up at the base of their neck. So I try to use it sparingly during this unpredictable time.

But back to sex, drugs and rock n' roll.

I'm friends with about two people who have been diagnosed with some form of ADD or ADHD (whichever is medically/politically correct). Therefore, their medication has been prescribed to them via all the legal routes through a licensed doctor. They are both on a drug called Concerta which happens to be the drug of choice at Rhodes during these tentative times.

I'm not entirely clued up on the medical know-how and facts, but as far as I know it's similar to Ritalin. Students who aren't prescribed the drug buy from their friends. The consumption of such a drug often takes place the night before an assignment is due or exam where the work and studying have been left to the last minute.

Now, another friend of mine is completely opposed to this practice. She's a diligent and hard worker and, therefore, does not appreciate people taking performance enhancing drugs. Her argument is that she works harder than the ones who do not take Concerta for medical reasons and they are more likely to get higher marks than her. In June, after our mid-year exam results (which she did phenomenally well in), she wanted to bring this drug use to the Dean of Students' attention.

Not Concerta or Ritalin. Photo: Tom Varco

It is in some ways unfair for my friend who works incredibly hard without the help of any medication, but I personally don't give a damn. I feel the same about athletes using drugs to be better and faster versions of themselves. Why not let them use the drugs and just set different standards - higher standards? For Tour de France cyclists, just have a different category for the participants on drugs. Those who choose to do drugs and are honest about it can compete against those who do the same.

The same theory can be applied to university students. Students who don't need the medication, but use it are encouraged to be open about their drug use and be marked on a different set of standards. The drugs are performance enhancing, therefore, judge them on this performance. There just needs to be a new set of guidelines for marking: be strict on referencing, spelling, structure etc.

The use of these drugs are a personal life choice. Concerta is a dangerous drug for people who haven't been properly diagnosed and prescribed the medication. From what I've heard it can possibly lead to dependence and chemical imbalances. Like most drugs, it's not a vitamin C tablet that anyone can use. However, they have made the decision to use it. Therefore, why not accommodate for this choice?

The details we choose to ignore

If I'm not going to do the work I should be doing, I guess I should do something constructive.

History, for me, is no longer about what happened, but how the event has been represented. My course on the history of modern South Asia has personified this.

Last week, I sat in my lecture & when you study a topic like the history of modern South Asia, you are bound to come across Gandhi. He is, after all, the face of Indian independence from the British. He is a highly acclaimed apartheid activist. And he seemed to be the father of passive resistance.

Gandhi. Image sourced from WikiCommons

Within the first 5 mins, my history lecturer said she was not a fan of Gandhi and she had her reasons which she explained as she progressed through the lecture. My first question was how could someone not like Gandhi? He's loved by all for his politics and dedication to humanity. But by the end of the double period I came to the conclusion that this famous humanitarian was a racist nutter who was possibly gay. Listing Gandhi as gay in that sentence may appear that I am grouping homosexuality in the same category as racism and being a little loony. This is not my intention. I merely wish to emphasise the aspects of Gandhi's life that are usually glossed over by high school text books & popular culture.

Let's begin with the unfathomable idea that Gandhi could've been racist. It seems a little odd to call such a prominent anti-apartheid activist racist. And maybe even contradictory. But according to this lecture I sat in today, Gandhi was not entirely on the side of black Africans; he wasn't even entirely on the side of his own people. Gandhi had grown up in a society that was incredibly classist, therefore, he only spent his time and his energies on mercantile Indians and not endenchered Indians as they were seen to be below him. He would therefore, refer to endenchered Indians as "coolies" and black Africans as k*****s.

Now, to why he could be considered to be gay and a good client for psychological & psychiatric testing. Like so many Indian teens, Gandhi entered into an arranged marriage at the age of 13 and his wife was 14. Gandhi was still in his teens when his father became sick and his son was at his side to nurse him. At one point, Gandhi left his father's side to have sex with his wife. During this little get together, Gandhi's father passed away. He attributed his father's passing to be punishment for his selfishness and felt guilty about sleeping with his wife. Not to mention, when the child was born, it only lasted a couple of days before it also passed. Celibacy became an important part of Gandhi's spiritual philosophy due to the guilt that consumed him surrounding his father's death.

Food also became a vital part of Gandhi's spirituality. He had been raised a vegetarian and blamed this aspect of his background for his slight build. Gandhi was a shy person and he attributed this to his size. He would compare himself to other people who ate meat and blamed his diet for his lack of physical stature. Crumbling under peer pressure, he secretly eats meat for a year & loathes it. At one stage, he even steals money from his parents to buy meat. However, according to Gandhi, he gave it up after a year. And when he left to study in England, he made a promise to his mother that he would not touch meat or alcohol.

But how does this all tie in with him being gay?

Gandhi's time in South Africa resulted in him meeting Hermann Kallenbach. Kallenbach was a body builder and an architect. Gandhi's obsession with food and providing one's body with the correct nutrients can explain his interests in Kallenbach. With such a strong and fetching physique, Kallenbach was quite appealing to Gandhi.

Our lecturer doesn't believe that Gandhi consummated the relationship with Kallenbach, but his letters to the body builder suggest that there was a romantic relationship between the two. This is not some conspiracy theory. In fact Gandhi believed in always telling the truth, and I mean always. Truth was another pillar of his political philosophy. These letters are available to the public online. They make for some interesting reading. Here's the section with the letters addressed to Kallenbach: Gandhi Serve.

As much as this can be all quite scandalous and the type of expose you'd read in a You magazine or Heat. But that is not the point. From this look into Gandhi's life we need to be careful about the representation of history and the people who make it. We can mistakenly turn them into demi-gods or demons, thereby making them different to the average-Joe. By presenting a thorough representation of events we don't turn historical figures into beings of a hire plain. Instead we recognise that they are as human as the rest of us.

History needs to be written with a careful hand. The writer's power and position need to be interrogated. History is no longer about what happened, but how it has been represented.

A walk down Matric lane

WARNING: Walk down memory lane sequence about to begin. You have been advised of the contents.

Listening to OneRepublic's "Goodlife" and looking through the photos of my brother's last day at school is not helping my nostalgia.

I cannot believe it's been 3 years...
On our final day, those who had cars parked them in front of the school office and blasted 5fm from their speakers. Of course, this did not impress the teachers and the cars had to be moved and the radios turned off.

For the rest of the school the atmosphere was infectious. Who could not excited about being on the edge of freedom? The end was so close!

Writing our final messages

The day was spent signing shirts. We defaced the precious uniform that we had spent 5 years keeping neat and spotless - well, some of us.
Most of the girls fashioned pigtails and everyone donned a pair of sunglasses.

We were quarantined to the gym to the gym. We had to stay put until the school gathered for the final assembly. The final Matric assembly.

Matlha presenting the teachers their awards.

I remember our final walk through the corridors to our school hall. I remember the whole school and the teachers lining the edges of the corridors to clap us in. And I remember all the laughs, smiles and tears.

It was an emotional day. I had come to the end of my school career and in some instances the end of a number of friendships - Facebook doesn't count.

My last day meant the end of some pretty important friendships, because I would be matriculating with as many as 10 people I had spent 13 years of my 18 years of life with. I had attended Beaulieu Prep and Beaulieu College with these people and in most cases it was the end. These were people that had most likely seen me at my best and my worst. They were a huge part of my life and I was moving on. So yes, the idea of freedom and no more uniform was exciting, but there was so much more to my Matric final day than most people realised.

It's sad to see the end. But that only means that a new beginning is just around the corner. I can only wish my brother the best of luck for the future. I hope that his Matric exams go smoothly with a great reward at the end! And to the Matrics of 2011, good luck! 

The balloon tradition: not the most environmentally friendly tradition.

Equality for all?

I find it incredibly frustrating when I am barred from opportunities thanks to my country's past.

During my journalism lecture yesterday, the communications officer of the South African Institute for Aquatic Biodiversity (SAIAB) spoke to us about the graduate internship on offer. It's getting to the end of my degree and I need to start thinking about some serious career building blocks.

To apply we had to go to the Rhodes University page for information on applying for the programme. Thank goodness I didn't print out the form and hand it in otherwise I would've been very embarrassed. Turns out I'm the wrong colour for the internship.

I kinda wish they'd told us before hand. Why get people's hopes up when you know that half the class can't even apply?

The phrases 'Employment Equity Act' and 'University's Equity Policy' I find to be incredibly contradictory in my generation. I can't stand this politically correct society. I don't believe that I have done anything wrong and yet I will be the one to pay the price. It hardly seems fair.

Not to mention the fact that policies like the Equity Act don't even help the people it was created for. So many South Africans have experienced worse economic inequality in today's society than ever before. In no way am I punting the ideas of apartheid. I just think we need to logically look at our society and review such racial policies in today's context. Look at who these policies are benefiting and if it's in the interest of the majority.

Living in Grahamstown for nearly 3 years has made me realise the racial divide that still exists. This is only encouraged by our ever expanding economic gap between the haves and the have-nots. The Eastern Cape is the personification of what is wrong in South Africa and the current state of the province is a clear cry for help.

We need to stop racialising the issue and start to fix the problems that we have.

But this could just be the same-old ramblings of a white student.

Time to tidy-up the news(play)room

Over the past two weeks, South African journalism has been on shaky ground. It just seems that as soon as someone produces an example of fine journalism, someone else has to come and rain on their parade.

The talk of the town at the moment is Eric Miyeni and his controversial ‘necklacing’ column published in The Sowetan this last week. Miyeni charged his pen and set out on a tirade against City Press and Ferial Haffajee. In his column he went on a violent rage aimed at Haffajee and her opinion piece published in the City Press’s exposé of Julius Malema’s trust fund. With little restraint Miyeni called for Haffajee to be necklaced, demonstrating the lack of tolerance for an opinion.

The City Press had given South Africans a fine piece of investigative journalism. On 24 July, the paper pulled out all the stops and gave the story a front page as well as a two-page spread on pages four and five. In the week before the publication went to print, there were advertising spots on the radio for this specific issue of the paper.

This was an example of well executed reporting. The City Press had spent months on the story, gathering information and acquiring sources. It examined every scrap of evidence and every bank statement to create a timeline of events.

The methods used by these journalists seemed to stand in their favour when Judge Colin Lamont dismissed an interdict by the ANC Youth League to stop the story from going to print. However, just as we see South African journalism rise in quality, there is Eric Miyeni to bring it crashing down.

The publishing of Miyeni’s blatantly obvious call for violence is another example of what is wrong with South African journalism. I don’t mean to say that we need to gag all our columnists. There just needs to be degree of self-restraint where journalists recognise there is a line. And in this case there is a clear line between expressing one’s opinion and inciting violence against another human being.

However, we cannot persecute the writer without recognising the roles of other participants. Miyeni’s column not only exhibits the poor standards of the writer, but of the editorial staff as well. Miyeni’s brutal attack on Haffajee had to have been given the all clear from his editors before going to print. Therefore, we cannot only blame Miyeni.

Furthermore, the problem has not only existed in the case of Miyeni and The Sowetan. There have been other incidents where columnists have been given free rein to say whatever they want. David Bullard, Kuli Roberts and Deon Maas are all examples of columns that have been given the boot for showing a lack of restraint.

However, these columnists have not only fallen victim to their words. They have also become the scapegoat for the editorial staff. Each time there is a public outcry, the “heads must roll” approach has been used on a paper’s writers. Could there be a plot against outspoken journalists? Are they being set up to land on their own swords? No matter how one sees it, there is a clear problem in South African newsrooms and it needs to be addressed.

Men be riding dirty

I have to admit there’s a small part of me that swells with confidence when a guy compliments me on my appearance. I think any woman feels a sense of pride in the way they look if someone notices.

However, this was only a fleeting feeling of confidence, because the compliment deteriorated when it was hurled at me from a moving car. Yes, my confidence peaked. And yes, I did puff out my chest a little more. But the feminist in me realised that hearing such praise from some guy speeding around in his brand new car was hardly deserving of any type of reaction.

Obviously driving around recklessly on campus does wonders for his self-confidence. I’m glad to see that he has to scream pick-up lines from the comfort of his new shiny, white Audi to shake any insecurity he may be feeling. With Lenny Kravitz blaring from the speakers, there is a need to show-off his new toy – probably bought by Daddy – and yell comments at unsuspecting victims.

Maybe not my most political piece of writing, but I felt it needed to be said.